Page 79 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
Elliot fetched the disgusting glove and left Charlotte’s townhouse, heading directly to Scotland Yard. Leaving human remains on someone’s doorstep was against the law, and he needed to report it.
“Talbot’s hand, eh?” Detective Finch leaned his chair back on two legs and regarded Elliot. “So that’s what happened. I thought for sure an animal got it.”
“I did, too, but this has to be his hand.” Elliot unwrapped the package and placed the glove on the detective’s desk.
The man blanched and sat forward, the front legs of his chair hitting the floor with a thump. “Nasty business. What with the Ripper fellow cutting up prostitutes and leaving their innards all around the place, and now this, it makes me wonder what the bloody hell is going on in London?”
He picked up the glove with two fingers and turned it in several different directions. “I don’t suppose your—fiancée, did you say?—wants the glove back.”
“No. While the entire thing disturbs me, what worries me more is Mrs. Pennyworth swears that glove, and its mate, has not left her room in weeks.”
“So, our fellow was in her house, eh?”
“Her bedchamber, actually.”
Finch shook his head. “We’ll dig up Talbot and see if this fits, although I’m sure it will, since you tell me you had reason to believe he was leaving strange offerings on her doorstep.”
Elliot leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Now I’m not so sure it was him. Because things had been quiet since his death, Mrs. Pennyworth and I assumed it had been Talbot. For what purpose we were never able to ascertain, but now it seems a moot point because he certainly didn’t cut off his own hand, stuff it into a glove, and leave it with someone to place on her doorstep in the event of his death.”
“I’m thinking you’re right there, mate.” Finch tugged on the end of his mustache as he studied the glove.
Elliot stood. “I have things that need my attention, so I will leave that with you. If you come up with anything, I would appreciate hearing from you.”
“Yes. You can count on that. In the meantime, I suggest you keep a close watch on this fiancée of yours.”
“I intend to. Once I clear up a few things, I will seek a special license and marry her so I can see to her safety while we’re dealing with this mess.”
* * *
Four days later,Elliot sat at his desk in his office, clearing out the pile of correspondence and legal papers so he could head over to Charlotte’s house. He had finally been granted the special license due to a high-ranking client’s intervention. Slowly, he’d been moving his things from his rooms to her house. At her tearful request, he’d stayed at her house the first night after she’d received the glove, but since then he’d been reluctant to do so.
He tried to convince himself that because she had received such a gruesome item, it didn’t necessarily follow that she was in physical danger, but the entire mess made him uncomfortable. Once they were married, he would take her on a wedding trip, as far away from London as possible.
Of course, the problem remaining was, who’d left the glove? He had examined the situation from every possible angle, and he was growing more confident every day that Talbot had not been the person responsible for everything that had happened to Charlotte. Now his primary focus was getting married and leaving this all behind them, hoping her marriage, and absence for a time, would make her tormentor step back.
The door to his office opened and his secretary, Mr. Gleason entered. “Mr. Baker, there is a man here who says it is most important he speak with you.”
Elliot dropped his pen to the desk and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I was hoping to make this an early day, however, since I plan on leaving town in the next couple of days, I should probably see the man.” He stood and shrugged into his jacket. “Send him in.”
He settled into his seat as the door opened once again. A small man, short, slightly bald, and wearing a suit of clothing that bespoke of moderate means, entered the room. He took small steps, almost as if he was afraid to commit himself to the interview. He clutched a large book to his chest.
Elliot waved to the seat in front of his desk. “Please have a seat, Mr.—”
“Davis, sir. My name is Malcolm Davis.”
Elliot reached across the desk to shake the man’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Davis.” The small man fumbled with the book he clutched, then shook Elliot’s hand.
Once they were both settled, Elliot pulled on the cuffs of his shirt and placed his folded hands on his desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Davis? My secretary indicated you needed to speak with me on a matter of importance.”
The man nodded his head briskly, then wiped his upper lip with his finger. “You must understand, Mr. Baker, as an employee, I would never break such a confidence, but I felt it was in your best interests for me to see you, as soon as I found this.”
Elliot frowned, not sure he liked the way the conversation was starting off. In his best interests? It sounded almost like a blackmailing scheme was about to be presented. He leaned back in his chair. “Is that right? What can you have that would be in mybest interest?”
“Before I say any more I want to make it clear this is not something I would ordinarily do.”
“As you have already stated. I have other matters to deal with today, Mr. Davis, so may I ask that you please enlighten me? What information do you possess that would be in mybest interest?”
Mr. Davis took a deep breath. “I am, or I should say, Iwas, valet to Mr. Talbot.”
